Grog and Kern are definitely not friends, but have come to regard each other with the kind of respect that comes with having each respectively beaten the shit out of/had the shit beaten out of them by the other.
Grog's actual friends are being emotionally complicated, which he can't deal with, so when he notices Kern sidling up to the bar he leaves their table as unobtrusively as he can. This is easier than usual because that guy Cashew has half the table riled up and the other half of the table is metaphorically (or literally, in Scanlan's case) eating popcorn.
"Hey," Grog says, dropping a hand on Kern's shoulder.
Kern, to his credit, doesn't either flinch with fear or turn to punch Grog in the stomach, either of which would be a reasonable response. Instead he looks up at Grog, then back at the innkeep, and says, "Better make that two."
They find a quiet corner, meaning one where they only have to shout at a low volume to hear each other, and start talking tactics. Not that either of them gives away their favorite moves, of course; there's always the chance that they'll face each other across a field of combat again someday, instead of across a battered bar table. But it's enough to engage Grog's admittedly limited attention span, and Kern doesn't seem to mind that most of Grog's suggestions are along the lines of "and then hit them again".
Kern slops ale down his front more than once, and catches Grog staring at him the third or fourth time.
"It's not easy to drink like this," he says, jabbing at where his lip isn't. His words come out slurred, but elided smoothly together rather than drink-fuddled, so he's still reasonably easy to understand.
All Grog can really say to this is "Sorry."
It's not like he can stick the lip back on now.
*
An hour and several more drinks later, Kern isn't nearly as easy to understand. He's dribbling more ale than ever, which Grog thinks is a waste. He's still better company than certain other people, at least one of whom is standing on a table spontaneously composing and singing a loud song about tacos and hot dogs. (Hint: it's not Vax, Vex, Percy, Keyleth, Zahra, or Cashew. Although Cashew looks kind of impressed. Vex looks like she's going to stick an arrow in Scanlan's eye and then shoot him at a dragon.)
"It's not right," Kern says.
"What?" Grog thinks he's missed something Kern said, but then realizes that Kern's looking at Scanlan. "Are you mad at Scanlan?"
"I'm mad at people who think people like me are funny."
"Half-orcs?"
"No."
"Fighters?"
"No."
"Guys with bitten-off lips?"
"Grog." Kern stands up, leans over the table, startlingly close. "Just how dense are you?" He snags the very end of Grog's beard, tugs Grog forward and plants his lips--well, lip--on Grog's.
Grog reacts reasonably, which is to say that he punches Kern in the stomach.
*
Ten minutes later, after he's carried Kern out of the tavern and helped him finish throwing up an hour's worth of ale into the gutter, Grog gets an explanation.
"It's not easy to like men," Kern says, leaning back against the tavern wall. "If they find out, most of them want to punch you. At least, when you're in my line of work."
Grog considers this for a moment, long enough for Kern to rinse his mouth with water and spit it out, and then says, "Have you ever considered opening a magic shop?"
Kern looks bemused and opens his mouth to ask a question before closing it again and just shaking his head. "Fighting's my thing," he says, delving into his belt pouch and pulling out a wad of what Grog assumes is tobacco but turns out to be mint leaves. He pinches one off and starts chewing on it. "When you're a fighter, you learn to take punches. When you're a fighter who likes men, you learn to take harder punches."
"But you punch pretty hard yourself," Grog says.
"Why do you think I had to learn?" Kern counters.
Grog feels sorry for him. How sad, to just want love the same as anyone does, but to have to worry about being hit or worse just for mentioning it. He feels bad that he hit Kern himself. He's never minded much who's attracted to who except when the rest of Vox Machina get all emotionally messy about it, like Vax over Gilmore, or Vax over Keyleth, or... it seems to be an awful lot of Vax, really.
He closes the small distance between himself and Kern, touching Kern's cheek lightly so it's not a surprise, and kisses him. It's very strange: the missing lip, the taste and feel of mint, Kern's scruffy stubble. He can feel Kern's teeth much more readily due to the missing lip, and there are the two extra pointy ones, and it's all a bit complicated for him.
When Grog draws back Kern's looking at him hopefully.
"Anything?"
Grog gives the question due consideration, but shakes his head. Kern looks disappointed, but at least he doesn't have the sick look of before, when Grog hit him, before he got the chance to say his side of things.
"Sorry," Grog says, feeling like it's not enough.
"That's fine." Kern stands up. "There's somewhere we can go with people to make us both happy."
"I didn't know whores came in man," Grog says.
Kern just laughs and offers Grog a mint leaf to chew.
a kiss with a fist is better than none, Grog/Kern, PG-13(?)
Grog's actual friends are being emotionally complicated, which he can't deal with, so when he notices Kern sidling up to the bar he leaves their table as unobtrusively as he can. This is easier than usual because that guy Cashew has half the table riled up and the other half of the table is metaphorically (or literally, in Scanlan's case) eating popcorn.
"Hey," Grog says, dropping a hand on Kern's shoulder.
Kern, to his credit, doesn't either flinch with fear or turn to punch Grog in the stomach, either of which would be a reasonable response. Instead he looks up at Grog, then back at the innkeep, and says, "Better make that two."
They find a quiet corner, meaning one where they only have to shout at a low volume to hear each other, and start talking tactics. Not that either of them gives away their favorite moves, of course; there's always the chance that they'll face each other across a field of combat again someday, instead of across a battered bar table. But it's enough to engage Grog's admittedly limited attention span, and Kern doesn't seem to mind that most of Grog's suggestions are along the lines of "and then hit them again".
Kern slops ale down his front more than once, and catches Grog staring at him the third or fourth time.
"It's not easy to drink like this," he says, jabbing at where his lip isn't. His words come out slurred, but elided smoothly together rather than drink-fuddled, so he's still reasonably easy to understand.
All Grog can really say to this is "Sorry."
It's not like he can stick the lip back on now.
*
An hour and several more drinks later, Kern isn't nearly as easy to understand. He's dribbling more ale than ever, which Grog thinks is a waste. He's still better company than certain other people, at least one of whom is standing on a table spontaneously composing and singing a loud song about tacos and hot dogs. (Hint: it's not Vax, Vex, Percy, Keyleth, Zahra, or Cashew. Although Cashew looks kind of impressed. Vex looks like she's going to stick an arrow in Scanlan's eye and then shoot him at a dragon.)
"It's not right," Kern says.
"What?" Grog thinks he's missed something Kern said, but then realizes that Kern's looking at Scanlan. "Are you mad at Scanlan?"
"I'm mad at people who think people like me are funny."
"Half-orcs?"
"No."
"Fighters?"
"No."
"Guys with bitten-off lips?"
"Grog." Kern stands up, leans over the table, startlingly close. "Just how dense are you?" He snags the very end of Grog's beard, tugs Grog forward and plants his lips--well, lip--on Grog's.
Grog reacts reasonably, which is to say that he punches Kern in the stomach.
*
Ten minutes later, after he's carried Kern out of the tavern and helped him finish throwing up an hour's worth of ale into the gutter, Grog gets an explanation.
"It's not easy to like men," Kern says, leaning back against the tavern wall. "If they find out, most of them want to punch you. At least, when you're in my line of work."
Grog considers this for a moment, long enough for Kern to rinse his mouth with water and spit it out, and then says, "Have you ever considered opening a magic shop?"
Kern looks bemused and opens his mouth to ask a question before closing it again and just shaking his head. "Fighting's my thing," he says, delving into his belt pouch and pulling out a wad of what Grog assumes is tobacco but turns out to be mint leaves. He pinches one off and starts chewing on it. "When you're a fighter, you learn to take punches. When you're a fighter who likes men, you learn to take harder punches."
"But you punch pretty hard yourself," Grog says.
"Why do you think I had to learn?" Kern counters.
Grog feels sorry for him. How sad, to just want love the same as anyone does, but to have to worry about being hit or worse just for mentioning it. He feels bad that he hit Kern himself. He's never minded much who's attracted to who except when the rest of Vox Machina get all emotionally messy about it, like Vax over Gilmore, or Vax over Keyleth, or... it seems to be an awful lot of Vax, really.
He closes the small distance between himself and Kern, touching Kern's cheek lightly so it's not a surprise, and kisses him. It's very strange: the missing lip, the taste and feel of mint, Kern's scruffy stubble. He can feel Kern's teeth much more readily due to the missing lip, and there are the two extra pointy ones, and it's all a bit complicated for him.
When Grog draws back Kern's looking at him hopefully.
"Anything?"
Grog gives the question due consideration, but shakes his head. Kern looks disappointed, but at least he doesn't have the sick look of before, when Grog hit him, before he got the chance to say his side of things.
"Sorry," Grog says, feeling like it's not enough.
"That's fine." Kern stands up. "There's somewhere we can go with people to make us both happy."
"I didn't know whores came in man," Grog says.
Kern just laughs and offers Grog a mint leaf to chew.